Rebellion
by Winter Ashby
Summary: It was just a rebellion, just a boy, who might have reminded her of Nick, if it wasn't for the Asian, and the younger, and the nothing-like-him thing. [Nick & Cassie] ish


**This is a repost from my LJ from some time ago.**

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**Title:** Rebellion**  
Author:** Winter Ashby _(rosweldrmr)_**  
Disclaimer:** Push © Paul McGuigan**  
Rating:** M  
**Time Line**: Post movie  
**Summary: **It was just a rebellion, just a boy, who might have reminded her of Nick, if it wasn't for the Asian, and the younger, and the nothing-like-him thing. [Cassie/Nick] ish  
**Authors Notes:** I started this forever ago, after the movie first came out. I just got around to finishing it now. I hope you enjoy.

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Her first time was in the musty store room of a rundown restaurant on the western edge of the city. It was midday, and the humid air felt heavy on her shoulders. There was dirt caught under her nails and her shirt was scrunched up over the swell of her breasts. Her bra yanked down and to the side, allowing him to paw at her. His hands were rough when he squeezed and scraped the pad of his thumb over her sensitive, perked nipple. He grabbed fist-fulls of her with one hand while his other hand hurriedly unbuckled his belt. She heard the metal clink against the linoleum followed by a ruffle of crumpled jeans joining it.

He still had his boxers on, and he didn't look at her when he pushed her skirt up to her mid-stomach and pushed inside. She could feel his fingers against her thigh, pulling her panties to the side while he bucked and grunted. The stock boy fumbled to hold her against the cabinets and the too-small counter.

She bit her lip to keep from making a noise. She was supposed to be washing up, and the boy? She wasn't sure where he was supposed to be.

She didn't even know his name.

She'd spotted him no more than 20 minutes before, in the dinning hall. He was tall, and thin, and with his brown hair – he reminded her of someone else. They'd run into each other in the small conjoining hallway from the dinning room to the one-stall bathroom in the back of the shop.

He didn't speak a word of English, and her Cantonese didn't get past ordering food, cheap stall-vendor food.

But he smiled, and she pushed the hair out of her eyes and blushed. And then, when her eyes flickered to his lips, the message was clear.

And his invitation was too good to resist.

So what if she called him Nick?

So what if she didn't know his name or how old he was?

But as he fucked her against the dried ingredients, she wondered if he knew she was only 15. She wondered if he'd care. She wondered why Nick _did_ care so much.

He grappled with her breasts, nipples peaked between his long, slender fingers and her ass was getting a painful indent from the counter across the middle.

But even for as quick, as messy, as unfulfilling as it was, there was a point where something in her felt like it was getting switched on. One minute it was a strange, almost painful kind of stretching sensation, and the next – it was all colors and lights and smells. It was skin and sweat and hands and oh, this feeling that spiraled down and made her buck her hips into him. And, just like that, it wasn't awkward and fumbling anymore. It was like a dance, like a choreograph where he would push and she would fall, and her hands on his back running through his greasy hair slipping lower to graze over her own nipples – it was all instinct.

She didn't have to think of what to do with her legs, they wrapped around his waist without her even noticing, and the way he seemed to fit, to slide in deeper and harder, it was all beyond her control.

And just before she buried her head in his neck and muffled her screaming orgasm into the skin there, her head rolled back, eyes fluttered closed, and as the back of her skull met with the cabinet with a sharp crack, she caught a glimpse of someone at the door of the dark room.

"Yes." She seethed, low and guttural, all hands and lips and hips and skin.

And he finished off, not more than 3 seconds later, his fingers pressing into the soft skin of her thighs as he tried to pry her legs apart even farther – like he was trying to crawl inside her.

After, when she'd wiped the sticky cum from between her legs, and righted her clothes, she stumbled from the hall, on still-shaky legs, with one last lingering look at the man she prayed to God she'd never see again.

She smiled as she slid into the bench beside Nick.

"Fall in?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the menu.

"Yeah." She told him, moving her hair back to pull into a messy ponytail, and exposing the pink flesh where his thumb had dug in so deep, she knew there would be a bruise. She turned just in time to see him turn away. "Oh, this?" she asked, touching the mark lightly, gingerly, almost lovingly. "That's just from when he was lifting me up to the counter."

It was just a rebellion. Sick of being a kid, tired of feeling like he was trying to make her be his little sister. Tired of pretending she didn't see the way he always made sure not to get too close. It was a messy, uncoordinated encounter that should never have happened. But she was horny, and tired of trying to find absolution in hot showers, with cold fingers she already knew too well to ever get much satisfaction. And there was just a boy, who might have reminded her of Nick, if it wasn't for the Asian, and the younger, and the nothing-like-him thing.

So he was what, 28, 29? And she was 15? Big deal. She'd seen worse. She was sick and tired of his fucking propriety.

Visions of the future were always changing, always moving. And sometimes they came to her while she was awake, walking around, clearly visions. She could say, with absolute certainty that, "Yes, that was a vision." And other times, sometimes, not usually, but just occasionally, they came to her in dreams.

Like when they took her mother.

She dreamt of it. Not over and over. Just once. One dream. In the middle of other perfectly normal five-year-old dreams about singing animals and bright beaches.

But the problem was, she didn't know they were visions until they were happening.

Then, it was like, "Shit. I've seen this."

So, when she dreamt of having sex with Nick, she couldn't be sure if it was just a glimpse of things that were to come, or if it was all just wishful thinking. Or, if it was just being 15.

So, she acted out.

She had sex, knowing that he'd seen her. And she called him out on it, at dim sum.


End file.
